Everything posted by cat danny 25

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Chronology;
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
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Outskirts of Milando
Sometime, 2298
Fields of Elysium
It went like this;
"My mother once told me; Dreams are forever, my son. Weather the storm, for it is only temporary."
I used to think she was wrong.
Now I think I understand.
I threw up blood today.
I can no longer walk.
My legs will carry me no further into this war of mine.
I saw a bright blue sky.
I saw trees of green.
I wish Remy were here to see what I saw.
I can see no longer.
"The world is not a cold, dead place."
I did not lie this time.
I felt her grab hold of my hand.
I felt her tears on my face.
I asked her to live, for me.
When my mother got sick, she told me; "Dreams are forever, my son. Weather the storm, for it is only temporary."
I used to think she spoke in riddles.
She did, but now as if shown a revelation - I understand her.
We live day to day with a dream, an idea; An idea cannot die. A dream cannot be killed.
The life we suffer is our storm, and it is our duty to persevere through these challenges.
I have endured all that I can; My storm has dissipated.
She promised she would see Casablanca, for us.
"I'm coming home, Remy."
Once more into that heart of darkness.

Outskirts of Cape Town
Sometime, 2298
'The Promised Land'
It went like this;
The buildings toppled in on themselves.
Mothers clutching babes.
Picked through the rubble and pulled out their hair.
The skyline was beautiful on fire.
All twisted metal stretching upwards.
Everything washed in a thin orange haze .
Then the ash settled.
The sun went down.
Wish it never came back up.
Remy told us they were rebuilding.
"We'll go together, things'll be brighter down there."
Hand-in-hand, once more into that heart of darkness.
I was worn.
Tired.
Told Remy I'd bury him.
I buried my brother in the desert.
Saw him again in my sleep.
His words haunt me.
I laid him down, in that grave in the sand.
He grabbed my arm with his cold, deathly grip.
These are truly our final days.
The Earth swallowed him whole.
He was never afraid.
From dust, return to dust.
I made the trip alone.
Remy died for nothing.
Their skulls were piled by the gate.
Matilda was her name.
Found her crying in the ruins.
Hand-in-hand, once more into that heart of darkness.

I would like to point out that I was both in TS with the person who shot you, and hovering nearby when you died in order to oversee the PK. You rolled a 3 when I asked you to, and I had set a precedent -- and the administrators in TS with me at the time ( @Argon @Tony @Maple Leaf Moosefucker can all confirm that I did set that as my threshhold for PKs on that drop, and pretty much every drop that I run in the interest of being fair to the players. Some people like @Coleision died multiple times and rolled for each of their deaths, whether by random flings of acid, bugs, etc. The only ones that I dismissed were friendly fire, as I didn't think it would be fair or intuitive for someone to RP an injury or a death in a giant clusterfuck of guys due to disorganization - it would have been frantic.
I can attest to the fact that the person who killed you was blindfiring through the hedgerows from the hip, and was neither invisible nor in observer but rather running around as a rippler bug. He was killed multiple times as well, so it wasn't even like he was unkillable. You had a 5/100 chance to die, and you happened to have your card called. It happens to the best of us.

Pointe-Noire
Sometime, 2298
Of Monsters and Men﻿
It went like this;
Where sea touches ash.
Where stone meets gravel.
Where man faces his fears.
We saw a sign today.
Pointe-Noire.
There were naught but ruins beyond the sign.
It was caffardic and despondent.
Looking at it made me sick.
This place was beautiful, once.
Found two men in the ruins.
Soldiers.
One was like me.
Found his partner trying to resuscitate him.
I caught a glimpse of a cold, longing stare beyond the visor.
He was dead when we got there.
Will I look at Matilda the same way?
I'm getting sicker.
As the world around us grows greener.
Partner had no radio.
A few days worth of food.
Eleven bullets.
Robert is his name.
Everett was his partner.
I will remember him.
I will remember him.
Because Robert is coming with us.
Four-thousand-two-hundred-and-fifty miles to Morroco.
He's a medical trooper.
I think he knows, but won't say.
Hand-in-hand, once more into that heart of darkness.

Katherine V. Walcott
Character Summary True Neutral
Renegade<████████ | ████████>Paragon Morale
Awful<███████|██████|██████>Not Awful
Name: Katherine Victoria Walcott Aliases: Kat, Kathy Age: 22 Birthday: August 11 Ethnicity: Caucasian Birth Planet: Norilia Heritage Desoric-English Hometown: New Windsor Gender: Female Specialization: Engineer Height: 5.6 Forearms Weight: 9.51 Stone (133 Lbs) Build: Mesomorph Eyes: Blue Hair: Dark Brown Skin Tone: Pale
Tarot Card / A Quick Consensus
The Hanged Man
The Hanged Man shows a man suspended from a T-shaped cross made of living wood. He is hanging upside-down, viewing the world from a completely different perspective, and his facial expression is calm and serene, suggesting that he is in this hanging position by his own choice. He has a halo around his head, symbolizing new insight, awareness and enlightenment.
Cold, callous, weirdo; these were but a few words to describe Katherine. The type to leer and brood rather than be confrontational, Katherine has manipulative tendencies and would sooner speak behind closed doors about someone than confront them head-on. Poised with glibness and often-superficial charm, Walcott finds herself predisposed to getting others to do things for her in her stead, whether to shift blame or simply shirk responsibility. Callous and often unsympathetic, many find her praise difficult if not borderline impossible to acquire should not providing it not benefit her. Impulsive, irresponsible and sporting poor behavior controls, Kathy has a tendency to act out of her usually calm disposition under the proper circumstances.
Standing at roughly five foot six, the young lady was of average height for her gender. Her body was composed of smooth skin, unblemished apart from a singular mole on the chin as a result of her 'green' nature as a soldier. She could have been described by a physician as having a mesomorphic body type - one typically ascribed to athletes of rougher sports, boxers or firefighters. Framing a pale complexion was a tuft of dark hair that came down to roughly shoulder length. Her shoulders sat slim; also bearing spindly limbs which gave her a 'smaller' disposition than some of her broader counterparts. Her jaw was sharp, her cheekbones high that contrasted a pointed chin, and a hooked, beak-like nose.
Set with light blue eyes which tend to observe her surroundings, they were left with straight and distinctive eyelashes, as well as bushy eyebrows. Incredibly hygienic, it's evident that the Desoric takes good care of herself. Preened brows, filed nails, long lashes and white teeth with naught a blemish on her skin save for during long-term deployments. Her voice carries a colonial accent with a scratchy, husky undertone which leaves her with an androgynous pitch that sounds neither too feminine nor too masculine.
A pre-enlistment photo of Katherine. Psychology Callous * Well-Mannered * Glib * Droll * Abrasive * Introvert
Marital Status: Unmarried
Habits:
Pacing
Drinking
Nail Picking
Compulsive Lying
Hobbies:
Cleaning Equipment
Cooking
Working Out
Fixing Things
Tinkering
Learning New Things
Fears:
Soteriophobia - The fear of losing one's self-reliance.
Likes:
Desoric People
Emotional Intelligence
Cognitive Intelligence
Neatness
Hygiene
Realistic Perception
Lax Individuals
Damp Climate
Overachievers
Salty Food
Alcohol
Non-Invasive Tendencies
Privacy
Dislikes:
Psychics
Relentless Optimism
Lack of Hygiene
Non-Desoric People
Loud People
'In Your Face' Individuals
Overly Friendly People
Excessive Femininity
Domineering Attitudes
Recklessness
Being In The Spotlight
Brash Rebukes
History & Misc
General Skills:
Engineering Sapper Certification
M55 Certification
CLS Certification
Cardiovascular Conditioning
Small Arms Training
Criminal Record: N/A Anything Else:
Given Desoric heritage, Katherine's colonial accent has English roots.
Katherine is a hands-on learner.
Katherine is an only child.
Katherine finds psychics unpleasant.
Katherine has a high 'shitty food' tolerance.
Awards & Commendations:
Engineering Sapper Badge
Relations
Stole from McMann
- Friend - Liked - Approval - Acquaintance - Neutral - Mixed - Disliked - Hated -
█████
(#'d Left-to-Right)
1. Thoughts of you professionally
2. Thoughts of you in general
3. Relationship Status
4. Interest in you (Attraction, Amiable/Friendly, None, Curiosity, Professional, Secretive)
5. Do you have a personal use to Kathy? (Yes, No)
/ † = Deceased / ® = Retired/Transferred

Somewhere South of the Angolan Border
Sometime, 2298
Where Ash Touches the Sea
It went like this;
"The Earth is not a cold dead place."
I promised her these words.
I lied again.
I wear gloves to hide my nails.
I can see my ribs when I take my shirt off.
My eyes are dark.
I can see worry written across her face.
A makeup she can't wash away.
She knows I'm dying.
There is blood on my hands.
We made a pact.
I've robbed her of the only thing that matters.
Stolen something precious.
So I wouldn't die alone.
It's exactly how I deserve to end my days.
Remy visited my dreams.
Told me mum is waiting for me.
A notion too far removed to mention.
When the morning came.
I was ashamed.
Hand-in-hand, once more into that heart of darkness.

Sperrgebiet National Park
Sometime, 2298
The Edge of the World
It went like this;
Matilda says it was a forest.
A national park.
All I see is dust and sand.
It's been three weeks.
Remy won't speak anymore.
Matilda told me she loved me.
I've lost hope in myself.
Yet don't want to give up.
Clawing at a future I'm not so sure is even out there.
I woke up this morning.
Put on my shoes.
Asked myself; "Well, what happens now?"
Threw up blood.
Eating is difficult.
One of my nails fell off.
I'm getting sick.
I can't tell her.
It would kill her.
Her heart is made of glass.
A precious sculpture I dare not break.
I'm sorry I made our pact.
I promised her I was well.
I lied.
Hand-in-hand, once more into that heart of darkness.

Somewhere North of Cape Town
Sometime, 2298
No Man's Land
It went like this;
I want to die but I'm afraid to kill myself.
Promised Matilda I'd stay with her.
Take her wherever she wants to go.
I've never seen Casablanca.
She's never seen Casablanca.
We're going to walk to six thousand miles to Morocco.
Mom, dad, Remy.
They all lie in shallow graves from here to Pretoria.
We won't make this journey.
Everyone I love has turned to ash.
She's a little older than Remy.
I don't think I can go through it all again.
There is no more I.
There is only her and I.
We'll both go to Casablanca, or we'll both go to Elysium.
We cut our hands.
Made a pact.
I'll never be alone again.
We found peyote out in the desert.
I've never felt happier.
Her smile makes the matte, bleak world alright.
Remy spoke to me in my dreams.
"Don't be afraid, little brother. You'll always be exactly where you need to be."
She needs me, and I need her; Hand-in-hand, once more into that heart of darkness.

Epilogue.
August 27th, 2298
Isolation Room 3, BCT-481 'Bernard Montgomery', Orbit Above Terra
Operation Helios - 52 Hours After Drop
Gerald Pomeroy, Warrant Officer
"That's it," Gerald let out with a shaky breath after the retelling of his tale. "That was the last time I saw the two of them. Last time I probably will," he followed up with. The doctor sat there, pensive as he looked at him. "You're certain?" he asked. "Of course I'm certain!" Gerald snapped back at him. "I --" There was a moment of hesitation in the operator. He sat back and took another pull from his cigarette. "What are you playin' at, doc'? What's your angle here?"
"You've got a letter, mister Pomeroy. Would you like to take a gander?" he inquired as he pulled a letter out of the portfolio. There was no envelope to accompany, just a folded piece of paper.
"If you think it'll help me; You're the doc, doc."
Monroe unfolded the paper and put his glasses back on. He passed the document over to him, it read;
'I've always been bad with sentimentality. What feels like a lifetime ago, a great friend once told me; 'Never pass up on a good thing'. I don't suppose goodbyes are always for the best, but I do think that closure can be a good thing under the right circumstances. I'm no good at writing letters, but I've been thinking a lot lately, and there's one thing that I want to do properly in my lifetime. There are some things I need to tell you, but I think that it's best I start simple. So, how's this for simple?
Dear Gerald...'

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Chronology;
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
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March 11th, 2298
Outskirts of Karnak, Lombard, Kaiser-II
Yael Avraham, Staff Sergeant
“Sergeant! I need your SAW set up on the ridgeline to our left, or we’re gonna’ get pinned down!” Yael shouted as she pointed off towards their left flank. Grizzly team along with a platoon of infantrymen were scouring the glassed remains of downtown Karnak after the Kaiser-II massacre. The Staff Sergeant shouldered the low wall beside Keira, gripping her Mark Three hard enough that her knuckles would have been white beneath the gloves she had on.
“Slade! Get your ass over to the left flank! Take McLaughlin with you, he’s got the spare drums!” the Sergeant shouted as several plasma payloads hit the trench that the group was dug into. Yael was a Staff Sergeant put in-charge of the expedition. They’d been assaulted by a Progenitor garrison. Intel had predicted low chance of contact, with the planet having been dark for so long. Boy, were they ever wrong.
March 9th, 2298
Outskirts of Karnak, Lombard, Kaiser-II
Yael Avraham, Staff Sergeant
“I stared deep into that darkness. Peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming, dreaming dreams no mortal being ever dared to dream before. Edgar Allan Poe sure did have a way with words, I figured. It was a quiet night on Kaiser. My partner Sebastian and I were stationed on overwatch, waiting for the glowsticks to make the push we were all waiting for. It had been approximately seventy-two hours since our arrival. The Forty-First Pathfinder Corps was already boots on the ground prior to our arrival. They’d called for reinforcements after the planet was blockaded by the Ark. Grizzly team and the 89th ID were sent to mop up the city of Karnak, capital of the Lombardi province.” - Y. Avraham
The main force was on a beach landing, approximately two clicks from the landing zone. They were digging in along with two other platoons from the Forty-First, some even said there were a few Marauders there. If there were, they sure as hell didn’t see them. They had a guide who led them into the forests overlooking the cliffs of the beach. They were meant to send word if their intel was wrong, and the Progs were launching their assault from a different angle.
Sebastian turned to look at Yael from the tree branch he was perched on. “How long do you reckon we’ll be here? Before the glowsticks hit us, I mean,” he asked. She gave him a long stare before responding. She wasn’t quite sure if Sebastian was able to pick up on it or not, but for the first time since Barachian that Yael had been apprehensive about the oncoming fight. Not because they were outnumbered roughly seven to one, but because of that Godawful waiting, the time where nothing happened. At any moment, they could be crept up on. Long the duo sat in the jungle, waiting for a shot that would never come. They were posted fifty five hours before being relieved and sent back to camp. Something big was coming.

August 26th, 2298
Arlington, West Virginia, Western Hemisphere
Operation Helios - 31.5 Hours After Drop
Sean Weston, Private First Class
They were coming up on the remnants of a firefight. Weston checked his magazine to ensure that his Morita was properly loaded and ready for bare. It was raining out, uncomfortable. A bunch of shouting came over Davis' manpack about twenty minutes prior, something about an ambush. He hadn't really been paying attention at the time, figured it was no big deal. Wasn't his guys, right? Once they got to the scene, his opinion changed pretty quickly. On the road lay nearly a dozen dead progenitors, some smouldering and others shot so many times they were almost unrecognizable, save for the blue or red makings that crossed their dull bodies. The smell of gunpowder and metal clung to the air. The street was ripe with fresh blood, stuck primarily in the gutters of the street where the water had carried it. Some a murky, foreign color, some red; Weston's eyes caught the sight of three figures near a tipped over lorry. One of them was a pale looking woman, unmoving. The other a similar case - another power armored fellow with two holes in his chest.
"We've got a live one here!" the men who had ran ahead called, prompting a medic to begin to sprint over. The Private scanned the scene, reaching up to wipe his face with his sleeve to clear it of droplets. It was hard to look at, three Pathfinders all fucked up. Lieutenant Korvus spoke up finally, once the last of the platoon had caught up. "Radio for airlift! I want this whole place cleared up. Delta and Fox companies are gone, they want to pull everybody out! Saddle up the wounded and get 'em ready for transport!" he ordered. Weston took a knee by the lorry and propped his rifle up on the bumper so that he would have a clear line down the street in the event that any more Progenitors came back looking for trouble.
The fellow the medic was tending to was unconscious, propped up with his back to the vic'. He had six or seven grazes on him, and a shot through the middle of his chest. He was still smoking by the time they got there, and was only now starting to look like he just might make it. The lady treating him slowly eased him down onto his back. "Hey - I need you to help me lift him," she called out to Sean. "Y- yeah - yeah alright. Okay," he let out a little shakily as he let his rifle dangle from the sling with the safety on. The Private moved over and took the man by the legs. "On you," she called out to him. "Alright. One, two three, up -" and then they lifted. He was a heavy son of a bitch, but they got him down onto the stretcher.
The two, along with the help of a third man got the stretcher into the boat once it landed. The medic made her way back to the bodies, while Weston couldn't help but just stare at the PJs as they began to strip away the melted torso of the injured fellow. "<:: Alright. We're solid for take off. Get the doors shut, we'll see you boys on the other side."
"Wait!" the medic called.